Thursday, August 25, 2011

It's No Secret...

...that I am not perfect.

Oh wait...what's that? You thought I was?

Wait...who just hijacked my blog and is posting ridiculous lies about me...of COURSE I'm perfect...

No. No, I'm not.

And this week, was one where God seemed to be teaching me a lesson.

Now, some lessons are fun, like learning how to make a double fudge brownie cake, and licking the beaters every 3 seconds...

But this kind of lesson, is one more akin to learning how to solve a calculus problem while barefoot water skiing across a fiery lake of lava as it rains acid from the clouds and your mouth is jam packed full of killer bees.

It kinda hurts.

If you haven't already noticed, you may be totally blind and should make an appointment to get your vision checked STAT, I may have a slight problem with, oh, being a control freak. There is a reason to my madness, and that is that when I feel like I'm in control, it creates the illusion of safety.

Problem is, it's an illusion. And that became superlatively obvious this week to me.

Our church has a Children's Pastor, and this summer, she had an intern working with her. These 2 people, by just being their totally awesome selves, have aided my growth out of the 100% control freak category, and now I am proud to say, I'm more like only 98% freaky. I know!! Cue the orchestra and dust off the party hats! It's been amazing, yet scary, yet awesome, and stretching, and they probably don't even have the slightest clue.

See, they thought it would be nice to give the moms and dads in the church a break, and take out some of the kids for a half to whole day fun fest. How exciting!

My first thought was OH! THE KIDS WILLL LOVE THIS!

My second thought was WHAT am I going to DO with all this spare time!!?? It's more valauble and certainly more rare than gold these days!!

And my third thought...WAIT.A.SECOND. A whole day withOUT me hovering over them making SURE they have fun and are safe and are entertained and are safe and are getting along and are safe....and are safe....and are safe....

*answering machine message*..."Hi, this is mommabex calling, and I'm sorry to say that my kids will not be able to go with you to fabulous-fun-land-candy-mountain because, well, funny enough, they ALL have gotten malaria this all fell out of a tree and have broken all their have coincidently been enrolled in a 'How to cook chinese cuisine" class all week, 24 hours a day...hhmmm... their mother is a complete and total paranoid control freak and the thought of them being out of my radar for even a nanosecond makes me want to hurl up last nights enchiladas while subsequently gouging my eyeballs out with spoons while singing at the top of my puked out lungs to Rebecca Black's "Friday". Okay. Thanks for the offer though, maybe next time. Or not. Call again. Or don't. Byebye now."

So, when I went to actually leave this message, the funniest thing happened. My body was taken over by an alien and I heard my own voice say, "That sounds lovely. See you at 10. The kids will be ready."


So. Not once. BUT 3 SEPARATE TIMES....I allowed my children to be AWAY from the mommabex-o-meter, and *gasp* have fun!

And wanna know something TOTALLY insane?
They came back alive.
And gushing about the great time they had.
And alive.
And asking when they can get away from me go out again with J&T.
Oh, and alive.

THAT, my friends, is what they call...shock and awe.

So, THANK YOU J&T, from the very bottom of my heart.
For not only giving my children the time of their lives and creating memories that will last a lifetime, but for helping this insane momma lose control like Britney still have your hair shaver btw, ... It means the world to us all. You are SO valued, and SO loved, and we are SO blessed to have you in OUR tribe, OUR peeps!!

Tuesday, July 5, 2011


Today, around 2:15 EST, twitter, facebook, and all other social media sites, along with many news sites, lit up with flabbergasted opinion based on the NOT GUILTY verdict read over Casey Anthony.

The shock and disgust is very tangible. This is a crime that took the life of a child. A baby girl of only 2. It's unfathomable. It's inhumaine. And then to be let's unforgivable.

Or is it.

Don't get me wrong...what happened to this precious child is sick in every sense of the word. And absolutely deserves punishment. A life for a life, even.


All that kept coming to my mind was the verse where Jesus is standing in a group of people who are ready to stone a woman to death because of her sin. In the culture she was in, her sin (adultery) was grounds for the death penalty, just as this sin (planning & murdering your own child) is grounds in ours. And instead of issuing what we would deem is justice, Jesus challenges her accusers and instructs,

"Let he who is without sin, throw the first stone". (John 8:7)

You may know what happened next...

"9 At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there. 10 Jesus straightened up and asked her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”

11 “No one, sir,” she said.

“Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.” "

So, Jesus found her innocent? No. She was still very guilty. BUT. She was forgiven. And commanded to leave the life that got her in this predicament.

So, when I think about Casey Anthony today, I am brought to my knees. I pray that her heart will be softened and that a true healing will begin in her, so that she will choose to leave her old life of lies and sin. Will that bring beautiful little Caylee back? No. And that is a consequence that she will have to live with for the rest of her life.

But I can not throw a stone at her today. Although I have not murdered, I have lied. And I have been angry and rude. And I have cheated on tests. And I have sinned.

Sin is sin is sin, and ALL sin separates us from God. All sin, "big or small" deems us in need of a savior. One who will redeem us in front of the Father. One who is found WITHOUT sin. And there is only One who can do that. Who has done that. For me, and for Casey Anthony.

I see now, that as repulsed and appalled as I am by her sin..I must also be of my own. Romans 3:23...ALL have sinned and fallen short of God's glory. ALL. Even if you are a really really really reeeeeeally good person. You've fallen short.


He has sent One to stand in your place. And THAT'S the good news today. You are forgiven.

So instead of condemning her today I challenge you to pray for her. To pray for a genuine work of God to move in her heart, in those secret times, where it's just her memories and thoughts and God Himself. Pray that she will take this second chance she's been given and use it wisely.

And pray the same for me.

And I'll pray the same for you.


Thursday, May 19, 2011

uh, Day

So, 30 days in momma-of-4 land actually means 16 days.


Sorry, I thought that was common knowledge.

So..onto Day 17 for anyone who has 4 kids.

Cause I like to go over and above the expected.

See how simple that was to explain my complete failure? Yah, I'm a smooth operator.

So, back to the land of the living...some of you know, I have been on bedrest from a surgery just over two weeks ago. It's been a pain. Figuratively, and quite literally. After 2 infections from the surgery, 7 lost pounds from living in major drug land, and 37 stitches later...

today is the first day where I feel somewhat like a human being.

So. Day 17.

Quick catch up:

Don't know if the fact that today I started feeling a bit better had anything to do with the goooorgeous sunny weather, but the kids sure enjoyed playing outside all afternoon!! Momma looooves outside days, drippy popsicles, mud pies and outside voices..alll staying...outside!!


Baby K will be FOUR months this Sunday! WHA??? I KNOW!! Car-a-zay! And he's still the most cute mellow little magoo.


MY Momma, dubbed the BabyGrams, the saint that she is, took Prince L up to her town, for a week to help me heal up faster. She runs a Montessori preschool/kindergarten, and he has been able to take part in her classes. He's had SO much fun. My heart aches for him to be back, but even more than that ache is the complete joy that wells up when I think about how much he's loving having one on one time with BabyGrams and BabyGramps. It must be a bit of how it feels to send your baby off to university...or maybe by that point, there's no's just kickin their butt out the door and saying send me a post card. :P Guess time will tell. ;) I'm such a suck though, I know I'll be like Andy's mom in Toy Story 3 and bawl in the child's empty room.



And finally, our fun news, we got a puppy.

And then we all died of allergies.

So, ok, there's no puppy.

But I'd really like a little pug one day.
Like, c' they come ANY cuter??



Monday, April 18, 2011

Day 16

I was on my way to an appointment this morning when it happened.

I noticed the car behind me was the dreaded cop car.

I don't know about you, but when I see a police vehicle, I immediately sit up straighter. And make sure my hands are at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel. And I change the station from lady gaga to enya, cause I'm not a punk. And I leave a full cars length in front of me and the next car at the red light. And I throw my Bible up on the dashboard. And my church bulletin. And my Jesus fish bookmark. And I wipe the fuzz off my teeth with my sweater and practice my most perfect good citizen smile.




It's funny though, don't you think, that even when you know both of your blinkers are working, your seat belt is fastened, and your insurance isn't expired, you still feel like HE'S OUT TO GET YOU, and those blue and red cherry's will be flashing at any moment. At least I feel that way.

Then I thought, I wonder how often I actually think of God that way.

The big mean ogre in the sky, with a giant baseball bat, out to slam me like that little "slam the gopher with a club game" at the fair, and condemn me for every sin I've even thought of committing.

When really, just like the policeman, He's actually there to protect. To keep safe. To intercede on my behalf. To ride a horse in a cool hat that looks like a frisbee. Oh,wait... maybe that's not God, just the police. Well, they do have a lot in common.

At New Years, I asked God to teach me more about His love this year. And He really is. It's incredible how every day situations suddenly become a metaphor for how God loves me. And only He is the one opening my eyes to these things. I love it. It's so personal. Not some far away God at all, but a very intimate Father who really really loves me. And you. It's quite mind blowing.

<span class=

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Day 14&15


My lovely friend lost her baby. 11 weeks pregnant.

My other beautiful friend said goodbye to her grandma.

The girl down the road who is heavily into all things awful for you, declared she is pregnant and doesn't care to stop these unhealthy behaviors for "some fetus."

A girl in my church, 23 years old, was given 6 months to live. Cancer. She just got married in February.

I am overwhelmed.
I do not understand.
Nor do I guess I need to.

I am called to trust God during these times.
To pray for my friends, their loved ones, their babies.

But my heart is still broken.

It brings me back to a few days ago, posting about how God is deeply in love with every single person, passionately and relentlessly. And then I realize, that any ache I feel in my heart over these circumstances, His heart aches one million times more. Because God is good. All the time. There is no evil in Him. He does not cause disease, sickness, death. And I truly truly believe that He stands beside us when we are faced with these things, and comforts us, as a Father comforts His child, holding on to us with strong arms and a broken heart for our brokeness. He is a good Father. The best Father. And today, I come to Him broken, bringing these people before Him, people He knows intricately. I do not come assuming He does not know the situations. I come to Him asking to give me the wisdom and the words and the actions needed for each circumstance, since He knows better than I. And I ask Him to bundle these people up in a warm fuzzy parka of His love. It's the only thing, the ONLY thing that can ease the ache in their hearts.



Friday, April 15, 2011

Day 12&13

Today was not a good day.

And I just don't have energy to write.

So today is just a BLARGGG blog day.

Toldja you never know what you'll get.

Actually, I WILL leave you with a picture.

Oh my I'm looking for the picture, Prince L just peed in his little potty, brought it to me to show me and subsequently spilled it on my lap. Seriously, THAT is the PERFECT way to end this crap day!

Well, let's feel better by gazing on this little slice of perfection.
This is me with brand new Princess B.
Dontcha think her and baby K look totally alike?


And now it's off to bed for me.
Thank the Lord tomorrow is a brand new day!


Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Day 11

My husband has left me.

Ok, well, only for 24 hours...but sucks not having him here.

If you are a lady who has a hubby who's in a line of work that requires consistent travel or even large chunks of time away, like the military...I honestly stand with my jaw on the ground in awe of you.

It's not only the little things, like that he always loads the dishwasher and runs it before bed. Or that he puts the lid back on the toothpaste. Or that he knows how to all the seasons of Dex.

And it's not even just the big things, like that he walks the girls to school EVERY morning, so that I don't have to get 4 babes ready in the morning, but rather can take my time with the boys. Or that he massages my back/feet/shoulders every single night. Or that he teaches our children about the Kingdom of God, and how He wants us to live on this planet.

It is all of that, but mostly it's just this:

His presence.

It changes the atmosphere of this home when he walks through the front door. There's a deeper love, a deeper hope, a deeper faith, and it feels warm and cozy, like hot chocolate infront of a fire while it snows outside. The kids laugh more, and show off for him. And even after nearly 9 years of marriage, I still check myself in the mirror before he comes home to make sure I look pretty for him. (Although he thinks I'm pretty even first thing in the morning...I blame that on the fact that he doesn't have his contacts in yet. Bonus for me. :P)

So, yes, there may be cilantro all over the counter when he's here, but if that's the price of having the presence of the most amazing man snuggling up to me as we watch, I mean The Shield, it's worth every green leaf. In fact, I may just leave the toilet seat up tonight, so it's like he's really still here. ;)


Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Day 10

Because baby K has some eczema issues, I have taken dairy, caffeine and...wait for it...chocolate *gasp* out of my diet.

I think I may die.

I think my body is in massive withdrawal.

And no, it's not quite cocaine, but I think I should be in rehab.

I think I need someone else to cook my meals and do my laundry and I think I need 6 hours a day to sit in the peace garden and think about my choices.

Sounds like an all inclusive trip to aruba if you ask I'll take one of those too.

Lord have mercy on me...and anyone who comes in my path in the next week.



Monday, April 11, 2011

Day 9

We have these trees that go up our street.

They are called Sakura trees.

Or as you may know them...Cherry Blossom trees.


Our city has a Cherry Blossom Festival every year, and all of these trees in full bloom are incredible looking. When you are walking within their veil, it's as if you are in some fairytale land and you'd almost expect a unicorn being led by several winged pixies to pass you by.


For the past week, I've driven down our street, noticing these trees rich in bloom, and filing a mental note to take my camera the next time I leave the house to get some pictures.

And then I forget.

And another day goes by.

But the thing about Cherry Blossom trees is that it takes about one week for them to go from gnarly winter branches to in full bloom...and then within one more week, the blossoms begin to fall and cover the ground with a pale pink snow, until those trees are back to their gnarly branches once more.

So I can't keep "waiting one more day", or they'll be gone.

On my drive home today from being out with the boys, I noticed the trees again, and I also noticed this:


The pink snow had begun.

I was filled with a panic. I knew I needed to go grab my camera RIGHT then, but what those 3 minutes it took me to do so, a mighty wind came and blew every last petal off?!?! Why didn't I do this days ago?! I had all these glorious days of full bloom and I took them for granted, thinking they'd be here forever...or at least one more day.

You know where this is heading don't you.

It brought to mind all the petals in my life. You know, those people who surround you, that make your life beautiful and even at times, fairytale-ish.

Those ones that no matter if they live in your town or a million zillion miles away, will always be there for you, just as you will for them.

Those special ones who fill your heart up so much, you just can't help but exclaim "I love you"s over and over...well, you will exclaim those' i love you's...

...cause there's no time in the day today...

...but tomorrow, you certainly will tell them you love them.

...Cause you really really do...and they should hear it from you.

Tomorrow...for sure.

Let's do it today, ok?

Cause like the Cherry Blossom Trees...there's no telling when that mighty wind may come and sweep our precious petals on.




Day 8

That would be yesterday. Oops.
It gets a big SIGH!
It was crazy busy and then I got a lovely nap with baby K, a movie with my King Daddy and back to bed.
I feel so nice and rested up this morning, looking forward to a fun day with my boys while my girls are learning away at school...
Will be back for a Day 9 post after we see what's in store for today!


Saturday, April 9, 2011

Day 7

What do you see here?


Let me tell you a story.

When I was teaching a few years ago, there was this 5 year old boy in my class who could spend the entire day at the art table. He LOVED to create.

I remember one of my professors in university reminding us students over and over again that artwork with children is about the process, not the product.

And for this boy, that was certainly the case, as his finished products were no rembrant replicas. Yet, he would mold, or paint or draw, or glue all day long, with determination, passion, and enthusiasm.

Then came a day, about half way through the year. It began as any other, the moment he stepped into the classroom, he headed straight for the art table and planted himself infront of the colored charcoals, paints and blank papers.

But instead of diving in to all the colors, he just sat, with his hands clasped together in his lap, staring intently at the blank page before him. He stayed like this for 5 straight minutes without making a move. I did think to encourage him to chose an art medium to work with, but felt oddly, like I would be interrupting something...something strangely holy.

That's when he looked up at the charcoals, and made a calculated choice to begin with the red.
I shook my head, thinking it was a bizarre beginning to the day, but moved on to another area, and let him be.

It wasn't until his artwork was half done, when I checked on him again. What I saw on that paper absolutely took my breath away. He had used every color in that charcoal case, and was purposefully and carefully mapping out the most beautiful underwater scene. With a blue, grey and white whale taking center stage, surrounded by a school of bright yellow and red tiny fish, complete with several shades of green seaweed and brown and tan rocks for an ocean floor.

I was already wondering in my head if it would photocopy well, because I wanted a copy of this for MY home. It touched my heart in a way that no child's artwork had up to that point. It drew me in, and made me feel somehow safe, and excited and free of worldly cares.

If you have ever found yourself completely lost in a piece of music or in a stunning piece of architecture, then you know what I am talking about.

I was very much anticipating his completion of this masterpiece.

I walked away from the table again, and began preparing my group time stories, music, and flannel pieces. Once I was finished, I rang the bell for clean up, and like a giddy little child myself, headed back to the art table to behold the finished creation of this 5 year old boy.

When I saw what was on the paper in front of him, I was confused. It was not at all what I had seen before. All that was on it was blue. I looked around the table, on the floor, on the art wall, to see where the divine portrait of the sea had gone, but to no avail. It was nowhere. I asked him, with what must have sounded like a desperate plea, "Where is the beautiful ocean you were working so hard on, Colton?"

That's when he looked at me, with a confused expression on his face, then looked down at his blue page in front of him, changed his expression to an enormously proud grin, and said, "Well, it's right here Mrs.Campbell." Then continued with a whisper, like he was sharing a very juicy secret, "But you can't see the fish, because they are all under the water."

I kid you not when I tell you that a tear brimmed up in my eye as I realized that the majestic picture I had seen earlier was now fully covered in blue charcoal. No one would ever know what that boy made, except for me, and him.

I hung his blue square up on the art wall to take home at the end of class.

When his mother arrived, she collected his jacket and backpack, and went to the art wall, knowing her son would have something to take home, as he did every day. As I was walking over to her to share this amazing story of what was hidden undreneath, she caught my eye as she was taking down the blue square and winked as she mouthed to me, "File it!" Which of course meant she was going to throw it out once her son was not looking because obviously it was nothing special and her home was already brimming over with artwork.

She did "file" the blue square.

And when all the students had gone, I took it out, and took it home.

I still have the blue square.

It is THE most precious piece of art in my house.

This story is to go along with the thoughts of Day 5.
WE are God's artwork. HIS masterpiece. We've been created with these amazing colors and shapes and lines and shades. Within each of us lays such beauty and truly divine and unique properties.

Yet so often...when we look at each other... talk to each other... work with each other...

...all we see is a plain piece of blue paper.

I'm challenging you.
And me.
To look beyond the blue, and to see the hues, the shades, the brilliant colors that make us all the most marvelous pieces of artwork.


Friday, April 8, 2011

Day 6

April 8th is a great day. Can you guess why?

I know you're thinking it's because on this day in 1893, the first recorded college basketball game occured in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania.

You're so smart, but not what I'm thinking about.

What's that? It's a great day because in 1911, Dutch physicist Heike Kamerlingh Onnes discovered superconductivity? Uh, yeah, that was pretty cool...but believe it or not, I know something even COOLER that happened on this day.

Oooohhhh, cause in 1873, Japan began celebrating Buddha's birthday on this day?


Um, No.


You are getting warmer.

Someone WAS born this day who in my humble, yet always right opinion, is much MUCH more awesome, and certainly better looking, than Buddha.

Ahhh, wasn't that fun.

My Julia Goolia has been on this planet now for 3-0 years today!!
She lives way far away from me now, in another country in fact, (Thanks a lot hubby of Julia Goolia! ;) ) which makes my heart sad. And I REALLY wish I could be with her today and celebrate big and party hard...well, not too hard, we don't want her fragile 30 year old bones to crack...gotta be taking that Caltrate now!

My love, it's been a pleasure watching you "grow up". Well, kind of. Who am I kidding. We'll never grow up. Well, then, it's been a pleasure being on the planet 30 years with you and always acting like we're 15 together. Archery pit forever. :P

In honor of your big milestone, I whipped this up in between loads of laundry this morning.
The post office said they couldn't mail it though, so I guess I'll just have to eat it all myself. Think of all those calories I am sacrificially taking on myself rather than giving to you. That's right, happy birthday, from your most selfless friend.

Have a very special day, and get ready... because the best year of your life thus far has begun today!

Heaps of love darlin!


Thursday, April 7, 2011

Day 5

I am CONVINCED there must be little, not like the Roloff family...but like teeny people, like leprechauns or fairies or something reeking havoc in my home today.

Because I know that I'd NEVER lose my purse...3 times...within 15 minutes. I know I didn't put it by the baby car seat. But, wonder of wonders, there it is, by the baby car seat.

And I know that I turned the stove burner on to boil the pot of water, but alas, when I go to dump the box of kraft mean 100% organic soy beans... in it, it's as cold as the arctic and the burner is off.

And seriously, who wears their slippers to drop off their kids to school? Oh, you do? Well do you go into starbucks after, still wearing them, forgetting you're wearing them, and thinking you obviously must look more fabulous than you feel because EVERYONE is staring at you? Apparently I do, even though I was sure that I put my mom runners...I mean Jimmy Choos on this morning.

And finally, the rock solid proof that there's some mischievous little beings up to no good was when I was driving to pick UP the girls from school, and while sitting at a red light, was surprisingly joined in the front seat by a very pleased 2 year old. There's NO way he knows how to undo his buckle. Heck, his Grammas can't even undo his buckle. Which leaves one very scary realization. The leprechauns escaped out of my house and into my van and undid his seatbelt. And I would hate to tell you that they did it TWICE today. This has NEVER happened before.

So if anyone has a cure for leprechauns, fairies, or baby brain....please email me. And when I don't reply, don't take it personally. I just probably forgot why you wrote me.



Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Day 4

<span class=

Love others as yourself.

Is that really possible?

Well, today I think I was given a key as to how to begin to do this.

I think before you can love others as yourself, you need to SEE others as you see yourself.

Today, I was stopped at a red light, and I looked at each single face that walked across the crosswalk, in front of my van.
It struck me that God loves each single one of those as much as He loves me. That lady with the hat that does NOT match her jacket and glasses that are WAY too big, and pants that are at least an inch too short even to be called flood pants...the one that would be easy to make fun of or even just dismiss....she is loved and wanted desperately by our Heavenly Father just as I am.

EXACTLY as I am.

It's not that I'm self centered and think, "Wow, how could God love someone as much as He loves me? Cause I'm so awesome." ;)

See, I grew up singing Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. And something happened in me from a very young age..I actually believed it. And still do. I DO believe I am His favorite. And in the same breath, I believe that every single person who has lived and who will live, is also His very favorite. Each one is His craftmanship. His design. His pride.

THAT makes me want to KNOW every single person!!

Because I REALLY want to know God.

I think once we see others how HE sees them, it will be only natural to love them and serve them as you would for yourself.
It's a revelation hard to put into words really, but I know that it changed something in me today. And the world suddenly looks a whole lot brighter. Since it's full of HIS artwork, in the form of all of us.

<span class=

<span class=

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Day 3


Kay, what on earth??
Canadians are known for their politeness.
Well then, I musta crossed the boarder for our lunch at McDonalds today...

I know that if I saw a mother with a preschooler running circles around her legs while she was carrying a heavy baby carseat on one arm and balancing a very lopsided meal tray packed with drinks and mc-nuggies and possibly a mc-cinnamon-bun thingy on the other, I would SURELY open the door to the play place for her. Cause that's what people do. Right? Well, Canadian nice polite people...right?

I was appalled today when the above mentioned lady was myself and I literally made EYE CONTACT and smiles to more than a few MOTHERS sitting inside the playplace, and not one even flinched to move to open the door for me! One lady looked right at me, assessed the situation with her eyes, and then went right back to the (musta been very important) newspaper she was browsing!


So, I'd like to take this moment to apologize to myself on the behalf of those selfish and unhelpful ladies for acting truly UN-Canadian! And Un-mothers-helping-mothers-ly. Rude. Have I mentioned appalled?

Ok, I forgive you. But if there happens to be mini ketchup packets smushed onto the front windshield of your wasn't me.


Monday, April 4, 2011

Day 2

Two things on my mind today. come I keep getting wiffs of something that smells like burnt plastic?
My first thought was that Daddy G maybe was using the stove this morning and left a burner on with our plastic colander on, not that that's ever happened before. (Thank goodness for 2.99 replacements at Ikea.) But alas, no stove was on. Then I thought maybe something was resting on our floor heater, I did notice my wool slipper sox laying on it yesterday...maybe wool melts? Nah, nothing on the heater. Maybe my glue gun is on somewhere slowly letting out tiny bits of melted glue that over time has created a mile high plasti-mountain. Nope. Glue gun's off.

Now are you ready for the big reveal of what the mystery smell is?

Yeah, me too.

Sorry, I still don't know. It's driving me nuts.
So anti-climactic.

Second...I love grammas. In the last 3 weeks, both grammas have made visits to our home, and the joy and craziness of the kids just melts my heart.
Maybe that's what's melting....sorry, sidetracked.
Here's a couple pics of baby K with the grammas.

King Daddy G's momma:

My momma:


That's about it for today...

edited to add: JACKPOT!!! Found the plastic culprit!! Mr. ducky has seen better days. I rescued him halfway through his cremation INSIDE the heater!



Sunday, April 3, 2011

Day 1

So here's the thing.
I have 4 babies running around my legs all day long.
So those 40 page, ultra witty posts are of the days of old.
But I have had all this guilt about neglecting my blog and really WANTING to write, but seriously not having a spare second in the day.
So I have decided to do a 30 day "Thoughts of the day" post-a-thon for the next, well, 30 days. :)
Who knows what you will get. Maybe a picture. Maybe a story. Maybe nothing more than a "Blaarrrrggg".
But I promise to share whatever randomness is on my mind that day. Time for some blog love.
Today is:

All I can say today is that I am SO glad that it's the last day of our 2week spring break. The kids are going stir crazy in this house, as it's rained way too much lately. I am so looking forward to packing their lunches and waving them off with a huge smile on my face, as they go to the Academy of Higher Learning tomorrow morning. (That's not really what their school is called. But it sounds regal right? :P)
I love my babes and love having them home with for spring break.
But more so...Yay for the END of spring break! Momma needs a break now!!


Friday, March 4, 2011

Who Sucks?

Ok, lurking smart mommas out there...time to reveal yourselves and all your wisdom, cause this momma needs some advice!

See that super cute pic at the top of my cartoon family (done by Cara at Sweet Memory Graphics...go get one! ;)) ....well would ya look at the newest teeny addition? Adorable..and the best part is, he's suckin a paci.


How do I get my NON cartoon boy to suck a paci??

I know that there are lots of opinions out there about paci sucking...I don't want those. I've decided already to try my darndest to get Little K to suck one, but since NONE of my other 3 babes would, it's either a genetic thing, or their mother doesn't know the secret to sucking. Probably the later. SO!!


If you have or have had a paci sucking baby...
What brand worked for you?
What age did you first offer it?
And is there some secret method to making him like it?

I'm very proud of my cartoon son for mastering this so quickly, and have no doubt, with a little help from you, my Little K will be a paci sucker in no time. ;)



Wednesday, February 9, 2011


Ok, so maybe you didn't do the deeeetails, BUT your prayers...they do something!! They DID something!!
You may remember this post, when I asked for you to join me in believing for new life for my lovely ladies, J and S.


I am AAAAABSOLUTELY over the moon excited to show you this:

The most lovely, perfect spine of a baby who is 18 weeks, 6 days.
(sorry it's small, I'm kind of tech-tarded.)

This baby's life began the week you began to pray with me. After 6.5 years of fertility drugs, interventions, disappointments, why's, loads of prayer, and much much hope, J is expecting their first babe this July!!

And what's extra exciting about this particular baby for me is that s/he will make me an Auntie for the first time on my side! Yep, this is my brother and sis-in-law's babe! YAY!!! So look forward to July for another birth story, and a million and one pics of the newest and totally miraculous teeny addition!

THANK YOU for your prayers!

Psalm 56:8 says
You've kept track of my every toss and turn
through the sleepless nights,
Each tear entered in your ledger,
each ache written in your book.

If every tear is recorded and remembered, do you think every prayer is also heard? I do.

So on that note,
keep praying!
My beautiful friend and mom-to-be, S, is still waiting and hoping and praying for her womb to be full.
Keep praying!
She has some appointments coming up that may hold some answers.
Keep praying!
Pray for wisdom for every Dr, specialist, nurse, and medical person who sees her. That answers will be clear and fast and easy.
Keep praying!
And of course, pray and believe with me for a supernatural miracle, that God's hand will move over the problem and remove it. I can not WAIT to give you her good news!!!

Much love and appreciation!


Friday, January 28, 2011

Calm Waters

This is a birth story.
It is long and intense and amazing and funny and detailed.
If that kind of birth story is not your cup of tea, here is the short version:

I was pregnant for 9 months. Then I had the baby. He's fully awesome. The end.

Now if you'd like a little more information, please continue…but remember you have been warned, this IS a birth story, which includes all the UNedited thoughts and experiences of a girl who commonly is known for stepping over "the line".
You know...the "is it appropriate to say or not" line. I offer no apologies. Just that warning.
Now, go grab a cup of red raspberry leaf organic tea to strengthen that uterus as you read, sit back, and enjoy…the story of birthing our last baby.

40 weeks pregnant


It seemed like a fool proof plan.

When I observed my history of going into labor, I noticed that it seemed to come a few days earlier every time. So this time, with baby #4, I would assume that the trend would continue and would put us delivering about a week earlier than my Jan.15-19 due dates.

Perfect. I love knowing "the plan".

So goes into overdrive my multitasking, event organizing, control freak self, in setting up my schedule, my kids schedules, my moms schedule to help with the birth and week after, my hubby's schedule and that of my girlfriends who will be present for the big day…all this consideration for a day that not only was I hoping to go into labor, but I was counting on it. And I would make sure I had control of the situation by depending on my old faithful companion…the 4 oz bottle of castor oil. (You may remember him from this post.)

I would promptly take the required amount of the rancid stuff the morning of the pre-planned birthday, wait the allotted 2-6 hours for the effects to begin (with my mother by my side, as she had arrived the day before), call the midwives, husband, and birth team by noon, deliver the baby by dinner, and relax for a few days in the hospital where we had decided to have him, since I "should take a few days off from home to rest", as I had kept being told by everyone.

Fool proof.

The morning came to take the plunge. At 9 am, after dropping the girls off for school, I starred at the tiny castor oil bottle sitting on my counter, calling out to me that it held my destiny within. It was as if inside that little brown bottle, my beautiful new son was gestating, just waiting for me to take off the lid and release him. I could taste the sweet (gag) victory as I gulped the ounces required, quickly chased down by orange juice. And a coke. Ok, 2 cokes. And half a root beer. And half a tube of toothpaste. Seriously, have YOU tasted castor oil? Not what I'd serve at a new years eve party! Although…hehe..that COULD be a funny experiment to substitute the vodka spiked punch with a CO spiked one…filing mental note. (You should also file a mental note not to attend any of my future parties. Or at least bring your own drinks. You're welcome.)

Moving along.

I nonchalantly glanced up at the kitchen clock, oh, every 30 minutes, as I eagerly anticipated the first tummy rumble, followed by the first massive contraction, leading into this glorious birthday. Tick tick tick…1 hr, 2 hrs, 3 hrs….By 6 hours post oil gag down, I tell no lie when I say I felt absolutely nothing. Not a flinch, not a spasm, not a bubble. My heart dropped to my feet. How could this be? So, I did what any totally depressed and deflated woman would do in that situation. I grabbed my van keys, drove directly to my town bargain shop, and (Daddy G, if you are reading this, skip this part and go to the next paragraph.)… stocked up with 23 dollars of Christmas sale chocolate. And hid what I didn't devour on the way home, so that teeny fingers wouldn't rob me of my comfort. I needed this. My plan had failed me. My faithful friend, castor oil, had completely betrayed me. Oh the total disloyalty. Forgiveness would be a long hard road paved by many moons of therapy sessions. And many many chocolate covered marshmallow santas. 23 dollars worth to be exact.

Needless to say, the birthday would have to go into emergency plan B. Except plan A was fool proof. So there was no plan B. My mom was at my house now, being the complete saint that she is. She spent the days cleaning, organizing, doing laundry, walking the girls to school, playing with Prince L so that I could nap, making dinners, grocery shopping, and taking me on dates to "walk the mall" to try to convince the boy inside me to come out and play. She put up with my whining and complaining over every ache and timing every false contraction and saying I THINK THIS IS DIFFERENT about a thousand times. She made my red raspberry leaf teas for me, brought honey bagels to my room, and even offered to buy me another bottle of castor oil. Now, I try hard not to hold grudges, so I thought, that MAYBE, I had had enough chocolate to move past my disappointment with old faithful castor oil, and would give him one more chance to redeem himself. Everyone deserves a second chance right? Wrong. Backstabbed me again. Never again will I ingest that repulsive poison.

Over the next week…yes WEEK…(plan A is WAY out the window at this point), I find myself googling every little known fact about natural induction methods from around the globe. The teas, the herbs, the oils, the sex, the bumpy car rides, spicy foods, laying naked in a field on a full moon drinking lemon tea…there were a lot of suggestions. And minus a few that were WAAAAAAAY out there, I tried them all. And guess what, nothing. I began to wonder if he had set up house in there and had decided to stay in till at least 18. Although this would be fairly uncomfortable for me, I'll bet every parent of a teen out there may see the appeal of remaining in utero through the teen years. But, for me..I just wanted him out. I wanted to meet him. To know him. To love him. To fit in my size 2's again. K, so that could be pushing it…maybe my 3's.

All of the due dates my midwives and ultrasound techs had given me had come, and gone. I was now officially in the totally covet worthy category of overdue. It royally sucks to be a member of that club. And I thought I had revoked my membership 7 years ago after Queen S's birth…but apparently something got lost in translation, and here we were, invited to play tennis, at the clubhouse once again.

Side note about the location we had decided to birth at. As many of you know, Prince L was born in our home. It was a beautiful birth with midwives, family and friends around, and truly a unique experience and very different from the 2 previous hospital births I had experienced. At first, we had planned to do the same this time, but as the time came near, all I kept hearing was, "Oh, you are doing it in the hospital this time right? You know that you'll need that rest…with 4 you'll have your hands full!" Any positive comments were few and far between.

**rabbit trail from side note** Now, in situations like these, I find a waring personality within me. One side of me (the side with rocker pink spiked hair, and a variety of piercings and tattys) scoffs and says who the h*#@ cares what anyone else thinks. My birth, my way, you're not invited, neither is your opinion. And then there's the other side (she wears a chenille pink sweater accented with pearl buttons and her hair is in a nice proper bun, and her lip color matches her sweater perfectly, bubblegum pink), and she totally cares about what others think. She is a people pleaser to the core, and wants the important people in her life to approve as much as the random stranger ordering his extra hot vanilla latte behind her in the starbux lineup. She knows she can't make everyone happy, but she will darn well try. And she'd never say darn. That's a bad word. These two fight each other constantly, and I'd say it's usually a toss up as to who will win out. This time, this situation, bubblegum pink won. She just cared too much about opinions, and was swayed to do it the way that was considered "expected" and "understandable" by 99% of the opinion poll. ****

I had felt disappointed with the decision to go to the hospital, and actually cried as I packed a hospital bag (read: 2 gigantic bag/suitcases, a food bag of snacks, drinks and games, 2 king sized pillows, a nursing pillow, 2 velvet blankets, and yes even my own bed sheets, pink of course). But after the u-haul was packed for the hospital, I shut down a part of me, and told my punk rock star to suck it up, and began trying really hard to visualize what this experience would be like. I did the virtual tour online of the hospital/birth centre, saw the admitting desk, imagined myself walking the hardwood floors, soaking in the jacuzzi tub, laying holding my babe in my arms, surrounded by an unfamiliar environment and sterile medical gear. It was hard to give into the images, but I really did try to find a peace in them.

Wow, that was a long side note. But it will come in handy later to know this.

If you are still with me at this point, please take a moment and pat yourself on the back, and say, "I am an awesome friend, and Bex sure loves me!" And now go heat up the bottom of your tea, and grab something sweet, chocolatey and packed with calories…I'll wait.

Welcome back! Mmm, that looks good. Ready for more?Ok where were we?

Right. Overdue.

The morning of the 21st, I woke up crying. Like not a princess tear on the satin pillow type cry, but the type that involves snot and crusties all over the left side of your face, mascara from the night before stained on your pillow-and husbands pillow, and pure, deep, inner heaving sobs. I was startled to awake like this, and rushed back into my dreams to see what had brought me to this place. That's when I was met with this beautiful picture of a birthing pool set up in my room, at the end of my bed. Candles all around. My family and friends, some on the floor on pillows and blankets, some on the bed, cheering me on. I heard the sound of angels singing as they sat around the roof, awaiting the arrival of this prince of God, and everything was SO peaceful. I had a huge smile on my face, and gave birth right there, in my house, surrounded by people I loved. That's when I knew. I knew that even if others view me as the rebel pink haired punk who homebirthed, that's who I was in this moment, and that's who I needed to be. I rolled over in bed (NOT a small feat at this point by the way), and woke up Daddy G. I asked him if he would support my decision to give birth to our son at home. I did expect him to waver a bit and seem unsure since he thought we'd already decided on this point, but instead, he looked at me and without hesitation, said "Of course I will!" Oh how I love this man! His one stipulation was that he didn't want our 3 older children in the house when the time came, which I thought was totally fair enough. So, I woke up that morning, with a renewed excitement and vision, driven to find good places for our babes to go during the blessed event. I felt a release that morning, a peace that I had so desperately been looking for in all of this preparation. And it felt wonderful.

My midwives came over around noon, and I discussed our new plan with them. They were excited for us, as I think they always knew that's what was in my heart. They left the birth pool at my house, and said that we need to get a liner to go in it. Apparently there is only one place that carries them in my whole city, so I was encouraged to call them immediately since it was Friday afternoon, and they didn't think I'd make it to Monday still pregnant, bless their hearts! When I called, the lady said that she delivers once a week, and her next delivery date was next wednesday. I told her that I was already overdue and expected to have this babe in the next couple of days and I needed it. Now! I was nice…well, maybe a little pushy, but a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do sometimes! If I didn't get that liner, I couldn't use the pool, and THAT was not an option! She was suddenly very lovely and said that we could come to her house and pick it up that night. Which is just what Daddy G did.

He returned with the liner at 10:30 pm.

My first mild contraction was at 10:35.

The next one didn't come for 12 more minutes. Then 14. Then 21. Although these certainly hurt a bit more, (like a charlie horse in the uterus) I was sure this pattern was not bringing us closer to meeting our baby. They stayed like this, off and on, sporadic at best, yet still semi-painful when they hit, no closer than 7 minutes apart until 12:30. At that point, I thought maybe I should call the wonderful lady, Miss T, who said she's take my girls when the time came. I felt reeeeeeally guilty to call her past midnight. Especially since I wasn't REALLY sure if this was real or not. (I just knew I was going to look like a total moron when I was still pregnant 5 weeks later.) I was leaning on a stack of pillows on my bed when my mom asked if she should get the girls up for Daddy G to take over to Miss T's house. I told her I didn't know. I said to just let me go through one more contraction and I'd let her know. When that next one came, lemme tell you… I… KNEW. This was the real deal. That was the beginning of the REAL labor for me, that one contraction that declared, IT'S TIME! I had been waiting for weeks for it, and when it appeared, it did not disappoint. There was no denying it. My eyes crossed a bit and I looked up from my pillow castle and said, PACK UP THE GIRLS!

At this point, my mom mentioned I should call my midwives…just to "give them a heads up". It's not like they had to come yet. I knew we'd probably be doing the 7-10 minute contractions for a few hours yet. I was fine to do that on my own. And really, I was hoping to let them sleep as long as possible. (Why I always feel like I am inconveniencing others with my "petty" problems like oh, going into labor, is beyond me. Someone maybe with 20 years of doctorates in therapy school or something is bound to have an answer…have them call me if you find them.) But my mom urged me to call, so I did, again, feeling reeeeeally guilty for waking her up, and we talked for about 20 minutes, in which I had 3 contractions during that time. We agreed that I would call when they became 5 minutes apart. The moment I hung up, things really picked up. Daddy G was setting up the birth pool in our living room, I called my 2 girlfriends to come over as I promised we were pulling an all-night party, (as I crossed my fingers hoping I was right…still didn't *quite* believe it) and then suddenly noticed these contractions were all coming only 3 minutes apart. Where the h#$% did the 5 minute mark go?!

I suddenly felt panicked, and thought for a moment, "What if the midwives don't make it?" Daddy G has a book called "Worst Case Scenarios", and I was really hoping he read the page on delivering your own baby. I called them right back, and they said they were on their way. When I got off the phone, I was SO ready to jump in that pool. I went into the living room, expecting to be able to strip down and dive in (Oh wait, there is a note on the floor of the pool that reads: ABSOLUTELY NO DIVING…I kid you not. Bahahaha, well there's goes my birth plan….what on earth??) Instead of a pool full of nice warm water ready and waiting for me, I was met with the scene of my dear husband with the liner over top his head, trying desperately to figure out how it fit properly into the pool. Part of me wanted to laugh, he looked hilarious, but the other part of me, the part who was probably already at 12 cm with a head half out of me, took over as I roared "I NEED THAT POOL! LET'S GET A MOVE ON!"

Things are a little blurry as to what happened next. All I know is people began to show up, and my house was suddenly filled with 6 women, one husband, one 2 year old son fast asleep upstairs, and a whale of a momma ready to close this pregnancy chapter! It was 2 am, the pool was filled, I was inside, candles were lit all around, inspiring music played in the background and I swear if you listened close enough, you could hear the angels whispering. It felt just like my dream. It was beautiful. And all I could do was smile.
When contractions would hit I would sing, or laugh, or try the hypnobirthing breathing/relaxation methods I had been practicing (yeah, that book's out with the Tuesday trash! Ha!) There was one contraction where suddenly I began to bawl. My midwife asked if they were getting more intense. I told her no. At this moment, I was realizing this was it. The last time that I would be birthing. And it was instantly very very emotional. I wanted to remember everything. And feel everything. And be present for it all. Before it was all a memory. A birth story. Words on a computer screen.

If you remember Prince L's birth story, you may remember the moment of transition. When you feel like a caterpillar whose guts are being squished out by a curious preschoolers sticky fingers. I kept waiting for that moment, because then it'd mean we were close to meeting our babe. The thing is…it never came. The contractions never got more intense from the very first one that declared it was birth time. In fact, the only way I knew that I was in transition was because they were suddenly only 1 minute apart…and then…BLOOP…out popped a bubble. Yep, I birthed a bubble. It was the size of a baby's head. But it was not a baby's head. It was a white bubble.

I felt confused and asked my midwife if that was the baby's sac. She said it was. But of course! My water had not broken. Side note: in the last few days of this pregnancy, I tried to go out every day to as many public places like malls and stores and restaurants as I could. Not just to distract myself and pass time faster, but call me sick and twisted, I ALWAYS wanted that movie scene to happen to me…you know, the one where the girl is standing in the grocery store check out and suddenly POP, water breaks everywhere, and she exclaims OH! MY WATER JUST BROKE! And everyone shouts hoorays and congrats and applause fills the air and flowers are thrown at her feet, and that hot fire fighter whose in line behind her sweeps her up and carries her into the ER.

Well. Apparently MY waters…they're made of fiberglass, and they don't break. So, this being our last babe and all, I will have to surrender to the fact that this walmart flower fireman water breaking moment will never happen to me. So, IF it happens to YOU, please take pictures, or better yet, video, and send it to me so I can live vicariously. Appreciate it.

Back to the bubble. There I was birthing a bubble, when suddenly, I felt, what can only be described as a very tribal roar rising within me, and then, in that bubble, was a beautiful boy's little head. And 2 moments later, his shoulders and body followed. I broke the water sac off of him and pulled my sweet boy out of the pool and onto my chest. I was laughing hysterically, and could not believe that only an hour after my midwives arrived, here I was, holding my boy on the outside.

Kade Jackson Dean was born at 3:06, January 22, weighing 8 lbs-2oz (my smallest babe), measuring 20 inches, and with a beautiful head of dark brown hair!! (ALL my other babes were bald bald bald, so this was an awesome surprise!!)

Getting weighed:


Daddy cutting the cord


Smiling at Gramma:

His name means calm waters, which is so appropriate since he was born into calm waters and also, as we are getting to know him, it's very apparent that he has a very calm and peaceful nature about him. And apparently to be born in the sac as he was, or in the caul, is considered very rare and a sign of great blessing, and that the child will have an important destiny…but we already knew that. ;)

The water sac he was born in (possibly a good shower cap? I know, I'm crazy.):

We are all absolutely smitten with him…well…Prince L is still a little unsure…but as soon as Kade can burn the ants with the magnifying glass with him…I'm sure they'll be best of buds. ;)

**Thank you God for Your presence all around during this pregnancy and birth. And most of all, thank You for this precious gift of Kade. We pray that you bless him and keep him and make Your face shine upon him all the days of His life.**

The people there:
Proud Daddy G

My girls, J & J


Cousin R

Plus J and S, my wonderful midwives. Shoot, didn't get a picture of them together.

And of course, the star of the show, Kade!

With proud sisters!!


And a very satisfied Photobucket and son